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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29719629">(Don't) Say My Name</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kbrick/pseuds/Kbrick'>Kbrick</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy Really Is Up To Something, Draco Malfoy is Obsessed with Harry Potter, Fluff and Smut, Harry Potter Thinks Draco Malfoy is Up to Something, Harry Potter is Obsessed with Draco Malfoy, M/M, POV Draco Malfoy, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Revenge, Scheming, Shameless Smut, Tattoos</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 18:48:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,451</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29719629</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kbrick/pseuds/Kbrick</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco concocts a devious plan to trick Harry Potter into sleeping with him, because that will surely lead to Potter being shamed and humiliated. Makes total sense, right? </p><p>No, you don't think so?  Funny, Harry doesn't either.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>340</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>(Don't) Say My Name</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Happy Friday! Enjoy some smut; it's on the house!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Draco stood perfectly still in the shadows, watching. He’d sat at the bar every Friday night for years, chatting with some attractive man or another, or alone, nursing his gin martini. But tonight, he’d stayed hidden, waiting. And sure enough, as he had every Friday night for the last six weeks, Potter came waltzing in, wearing another one of those brazenly tight t-shirts that highlighted his…assets. And then, just like every other Friday night for the last six weeks, he wandered over to the bar (without nodding to Draco tonight, though, since Draco was hidden) and ordered a whiskey, neat. He glanced around the darkened room, sizing up the clientele. And then, as always, he homed in on a man. Always a tall, lean, blonde man; always a man who was well-dressed.</p><p>And always, <em>always</em> a man other than Draco.</p><p>The first couple of times it happened, Draco thought it might be coincidental. But then it became clear that Potter was going make this a weekly thing: visiting the bar – <em>Draco’s</em> bar – and picking up men. His selections made it seem very much like he was rubbing it in Draco’s face, too — the way he kept pulling, week after week, men who looked strikingly similar to Draco, while Draco sat at the bar and watched. It was almost as though he were telling Draco, through this bizarre ritual, that while Draco was one hundred percent <em>his</em> <em>type</em>, he’d never, in a million years, fuck Draco himself.</p><p>Draco was tired of it. And tired of just how much it hurt – no, not hurt. Fuck that. How much it <em>infuriated</em> him. Yes, infuriated. That felt much better.</p><p>Tonight’s bloke was the same as all the others. Tall and slim, with curly, dark blonde hair instead of sleek white-blonde, wearing designer robes. He was also wearing futuristic-looking sunglasses. Inside a bar. What an utter git. The fact that this alone did not deter Potter spoke volumes.</p><p>He watched as Potter approached the man, ordered a drink for him, and pulled him into a conversation. Draco didn’t remember Potter being particularly charming in school, but he must have picked it up along the way somewhere, because within minutes of meeting Potter, men always seemed dazzled and ready to spread for him. Although, Draco thought snidely, it could be the mere fact of the Harry Potter name. All the men might’ve just wanted to shag somebody famous. Yes, that was likely it. Probably Potter was just as tongue-tied and awkward as ever and coasting on his fame.</p><p>Now Potter was coming in for the kill. He put a hand on the man’s waist and leaned forward to speak close to his ear. Draco could almost feel it, the soft brush of lips, the tickle of breath. He shivered.</p><p>Then he was pulling at the man’s sunglasses, laughing, and the man was letting him take them off. With the sunglasses removed, Draco could see, much to his dismay, that the man was rather attractive. Didn’t have good bones, though. He had a round-faced, unrefined look about him that suggested his ancestors had toiled away in fields; perhaps those belonging to Draco’s family. Draco grinned at the thought.</p><p>Potter was leaning close again, doing more whispering. The man was leaning too, looking positively enchanted. Potter stepped closer, so that their bodies were touching, and Draco felt his eyes close for a moment, imagining what that must feel like, to have all that glowing attention on you. It must be like standing before the sun.</p><p>When he opened his eyes, they were kissing. Based on the subtle reconnaissance that Draco had been doing the past few weeks, he’d gathered that Potter was a good kisser. But now that he could look closely, he found himself mesmerized. Potter kissed the way he did everything else, by throwing himself into it, getting messy and raw, not bothering to conceal any of his desire or hunger. Draco felt himself getting hard as he stood there, watching him possess the blonde man’s mouth. When Potter slid a hand down the curve of the other man’s arse, Draco had to bite down hard on his lip.</p><p>Soon, they were leaving, in a tangle of limbs and a cloud of laughter. Draco stepped out of his hiding place and walked over to the bar and ordered his usual. “Draco, hello. Thought you were skipping out on us tonight,” said Tim, the bartender. Tim was a bit on the short side, but he was built like Hercules.</p><p>“Oh, no, of course not,” said Draco, smiling. “Didn’t want you to be lonely.” It was close to closing time, now, and the bar was quieting down. Draco nursed his martini slowly, making small talk with Tim.</p><p>Generally, Draco made a point of not sleeping with the staff here, since he wanted to keep coming back. He’d made that mistake early on with one of the managers, a man named Carlos, and it had been awkward afterwards, and he’d ended up staying away for a month or two. But after seeing Potter crawling all over that blonde, Draco really, <em>really</em> wanted someone to suck his cock. So when Tim suggested that Draco join him for after-hours, he agreed, and then, when they were leaving, Draco asked if the after-hours thing was truly necessary, and whether Tim wouldn’t prefer to get right to it.</p><p>Tim said, with great enthusiasm, that he was fine getting right to it.</p><p> </p><p>The next Friday, Draco was ready. He’d been working on his new potion for a few weeks now, and he’d done some preliminary testing that suggested it was perfect. A couple hours after lunch, he gulped down the vial and felt his face change.</p><p>It wasn’t Polyjuice. Draco wasn’t crazy about taking on someone else’s form, not to mention, it changed the dimensions of you in an awkward way. You never felt quite like it was your actual body.</p><p>This new potion, though, didn’t require the DNA of an existing person to activate it. The best way to describe how it functioned was that it rendered your face malleable, like molding clay. You could shape it for several minutes after ingesting the potion, until it hardened and returned to the consistency of normal flesh over bone. Draco looked in the mirror and carefully shortened his nose and his chin (couldn’t say he was particularly sad to be paring that part of himself down; it was his one flaw), and then made his jaw a bit wider, his lips a bit fuller.</p><p>He made some minor adjustments, making sure that it all looked even and smooth, and then waited for a couple of minutes while it finished hardening. He did a quick spell on his eyes to cause them to turn a sunnier color, a summer blue rather than a wintery gray. He darkened his hair just a shade, made his voice just the tiniest bit higher, and then pulled off his Potioneer robes and set out onto the street.</p><p>He knew almost all the other shop owners on Diagon by now, and a few of them had even started saying hello to him, like he was an actual person and not evil incarnate. He could immediately tell that his disguise was good. People were nodding in a vaguely friendly way, and no one seemed to recognize him. Even George Weasley, who usually glared daggers at him, tilted his head at Draco and said “Afternoon.”</p><p>He returned to his shop feeling that it had worked beautifully. No one had suspected. Additionally, since he’d rendered his face a little friendlier, less sharp, people seemed naturally inclined to smile at him, to say hello. It was perfect.</p><p>The disguise would last for twelve hours, which would be ideal. It would wear off exactly when he wanted it to, so long as things went according to plan. Which they would. Because Draco wasn’t going to allow it to be otherwise.</p><p> </p><p>In his little flat above his shop, Draco changed into something he’d purchased just for this occasion. He loved clothes -- expensive, luxurious clothes in particular – but due to his own views of himself as well as the expectations that his family had set, he mostly wore traditional, conservative wizarding things. His mother and father might have finally accepted that he was bent, but they would never, <em>ever</em> accept a son who dressed like a tart.</p><p>His usual outfit at clubs or bars was a pair of elegantly fitted trousers and a well-cut button-up. That was about as wild as he typically got, which, to be fair, didn’t seem to stop him from pulling plenty of attractive blokes. But there’d always been a part of him that wanted to experiment. Tonight, wearing this new face, seemed like the perfect opportunity.</p><p>He yanked on the pants he’d purchased (discreetly, from a shop in muggle London, paying in pounds and using a false name and address when the clerk asked if he wanted to be added to a mailing list). They were leather, dyed midnight blue, with an electric yellow stripe down the sides, and saying they were tight didn’t quite get the point across. His shirt was a loose, white cotton thing, very thin, that was distressed at the hem and collar. The collar was wide, almost falling off of Draco’s sharp shoulder and revealing his collarbone, which, by his measure, was quite an attractive collarbone. The shirt was not very long, either, and when he moved, it sometimes revealed a sliver of his taut stomach. He had on a pair of combat boots in a blinding yellow as well, even though the shop clerk had suggested something that wasn’t so matchy-matchy. But Draco liked matchy, and fuck that shop clerk. He’d hardly been a pinnacle of style.</p><p>His heart was in his throat by the time he arrived at his bar. Merlin, revenge was sweet, he’d always known that, but now that it was almost here, now that he could almost taste it, it was downright intoxicating. He felt drunk before he even ordered a gin martini at the bar. He ordered it with cucumber instead of a twist of lemon, because that seemed like it would be enough to throw Tim off his scent. Tim wasn’t very bright.</p><p>Tim didn’t seem to be mourning the absence of Draco, either. He was flirting blatantly with Draco-in-disguise. Draco’s fake name was Alaric Allemand. ‘Alaric’ was from Manchester, where his mother’s family originated, but his father was from France. He’d gone away to Beauxbatons, which worked well with Draco’s ability to speak French fluently.</p><p>Tim seemed ready to jump over the bar and shag Alaric right there, but Draco had a job to do. He excused himself and made his way over to a little cocktail table, settling himself against the wall to keep watch. Several men approached him – they, apparently, didn’t mind the matchy-matchy shoes, <em>thank you very much</em>, but Draco turned them all away with a soft laugh and a polite demurrer.</p><p>Then, finally, around eleven, Potter came strolling in. He looked immediately to the bar, right to where Draco usually sat, and frowned. That, in and of itself, was satisfying. It proved that Draco was right, that Potter really was doing this to rub it in his face.</p><p>Potter meandered over to Tim and ordered his usual neat whiskey, then turned, leaning back against the bar, and scanned the room. Draco had taken note of all the other tall, blonde, lean men in attendance this evening. There was one over on the dance floor and one sitting at a booth with a couple of women, but neither one was particularly attractive. And neither one was wearing skin-tight blue leather pants.</p><p>Potter froze when his eyes landed on Draco. Draco let his friendlier, fuller mouth curve up into a small smile, maintaining eye contact for a moment, and then looked away. The flush that spread across his face wasn’t exactly intentional, but it didn’t hurt, either.</p><p>Mere moments later, Potter was there, standing by the table, so close that Draco could smell him. He smelled like some rich, unusual cologne, much better than the generic crap Draco had expected from him. It smelled extravagant, expensive. “Hello,” Potter said, his voice warm and deeper, huskier than Draco remembered. “I’m Harry.” He smiled, a crooked, almost-bashful thing, and it was easy to understand why this worked every single Friday. It was a devastating smile.</p><p>Draco had debated beforehand whether Potter would prefer to be recognized immediately, or whether he’d rather be treated just like any other person. Draco wasn’t sure, so he had decided on a bit of a compromise. “Yes, I’ve heard of you,” Draco said. “Everyone always wants to talk about Harry Potter here in London, and your picture’s in the paper often enough. I must tell you, though, that no one in the South of France even knows your name.” He smiled mischievously to soften the blow. “I’m Alaric, by the way.”</p><p>“You’re from France?” asked Harry, sidling closer.</p><p>“Not originally. I did my schooling there,” said Draco. “I’m back now, though.”</p><p>“And I’m glad that you are,” said Potter, smiling again. “Can I get you another drink?”</p><p>Draco had nearly drained his. “Sure. What are you having?”</p><p>“Macallan single-malt, neat. Nothing too fancy.”</p><p>“I’ll have that, then,” said Draco. “On the rocks, though.” He touched Potter’s arm lightly. “Thank you.”</p><p>Potter nodded, looking pleased. “Of course.”</p><p>He disappeared for a moment, then came back with two whiskeys. He put the one on the rocks in front of Draco. “Chilling it dampens the flavor and aroma, you know. You should try it neat, sometime, if you like whiskey.”</p><p>Fucking know-it-all. As though Draco didn’t realize that. He liked his liquor cold regardless. “Oh, interesting. Maybe I will. And if you’re ever interested in drinking something less…<em>common</em>, you ought to try Lagavulin sometime. The flavor is much more complex.” Draco let his voice drip with the slightest hint of distain, just because it felt good.</p><p>Though this comment, were he currently presenting as Draco Malfoy, would have earned him a glare or a punch in the face, it apparently only earned a low chuckle when he was Alaric. “Yes, I’ll have to. I’m a man of habits, I ‘spose, so I found that I liked Macallan a few years back and haven’t experimented much since then.”</p><p>“You’re loyal,” said Draco, sending Potter a flirtatious smile from under his eyelashes. “Not a bad thing.”</p><p>Potter turned pinkish and laughed. “So, tell me about yourself. Did you go to Beauxbatons?”</p><p>“I did,” said Draco. “Graduated two years ago.” He’d decided to make himself a year younger, just to confuse things a bit. “And you?”</p><p>“Hogwarts,” said Potter.</p><p>“Ah, of course,” said Draco. “Did you like it there?”</p><p>“Um, well…there was a war going on the last year I was there, so…no? Not especially? I guess it would have been alright otherwise. I met my best friends there, so I’m grateful for that, at least.”</p><p>“Didn’t meet a boyfriend there?” asked Draco.</p><p>“No. Not quite,” Potter said, flushing again.</p><p>“I’m surprised, beautiful man like you. I bet everyone was in love with you and you just didn’t know it.” Draco was laying it on quite thick, but he was speaking playfully, so that Potter had no way of knowing whether he was serious or not.</p><p>“Oh, er. Ha.” He was clearly throwing Potter off his game a little, and it felt excellent. “I wasn’t exactly aware that I liked men back then. That came afterward. There was one guy, but…it never would have worked.”</p><p>“Oh?” Draco said, exorbitantly curious. “Why not?”</p><p>“He was kind of an arsehole, for one thing. Hated me, for another.”</p><p>Draco felt his heart thud painfully in his chest, and he had to fight to keep his expression blank. What the fuck. What the fuck was Potter even <em>saying</em>? He couldn’t mean -- no way. Impossible. Draco banished it from his mind. “Oh, sounds…messy.”</p><p>“Yeah, you could say that.” Potter said, looking into Draco’s/Alaric’s eyes. “What about you? Why is someone who looks like you here all by himself?”</p><p>Draco tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear. “Well, I’m new. To the area. Haven’t ever lived in London before, actually. I grew up in Manchester.”</p><p>“Ah. So I should count myself lucky, meeting you early on. I’m sure otherwise you’d be with some brilliant bloke already.”</p><p>“Mm. I don’t know. Maybe we’re both lucky,” Draco said, reaching up into Potter’s hair and tugging. “Something in your hair,” he said, even though there hadn’t been. It was just an excuse to touch it, something Draco had always wanted to do.</p><p>Potter caught his hand and looked at it. “What’s this?” he asked, pointing at a ring. Draco had taken pains to leave no trace of himself, so this ring was one he never wore, an enormous sapphire thing that had belonged to his grandfather.</p><p>“Family heirloom,” said Draco, feverish at the feel of Potter’s hand on his.</p><p>“It’s pretty,” he said. “Matches your eyes.”</p><p>It didn’t, because Draco’s eyes weren’t really blue, and suddenly he was angry, because why the hell was Alaric so great while Draco was scum?</p><p>“You’re sweet,” said Draco, leaning close. “I think I’d like to fuck you.”</p><p>“Ah. Okay. Yes?” Potter laughed, and it was high-pitched and nervous.</p><p>“My place isn’t really unpacked, so…”</p><p>“Oh. <em>Oh</em>. Like, now?”</p><p>Draco closed the gap between them and felt Potter’s warm chest against his own. He saw Potter inhale rather shakily as his eyes moved over Draco’s mouth and then his collarbone. The shirt had been a good idea. Draco shifted so that his mouth was no more than an inch from Potter’s. “Unless you don’t want to,” he said, low and soft.</p><p>“No. I mean, yes, I want to. Definitely.”</p><p>“Good,” said Draco, and then leaned forward to kiss him.</p><p>Potter was just as excellent a kisser as Draco had suspected, communicating very clearly how turned on he was, how much he wanted it, just by the way he fucked Draco’s mouth with his tongue, by the way his soft lips slid across Draco’s, by the way his hands found their way to Draco’s waist, slipping underneath his loose t-shirt. God, it felt good. Draco was almost angry, because part of him just wanted to enjoy this, but he couldn’t. He had a job to do.  He broke away. “Shall we?”</p><p>Potter looked dazed. “Yeah. Want to Side-Along? I can do it from out back.”</p><p>“Sure,” said Draco.</p><p>Potter took his hand and led him towards the back of the bar, to the door through which Draco had seen him take all those other tall, blonde men. When they were out in the back alley, Potter wrapped his arms around Draco and kissed him once, briefly, and then suddenly they were twisting and apparating into a foyer that was dimly lit and faded with age.</p><p>“This is where you live?” Draco asked.</p><p>“Yeah, I inherited it, actually, from my godfather. Haven’t had much time to renovate yet. I know it’s a bit…gloomy.”</p><p>“It’s got lovely bones,” Draco said. He knew this house, he realized. He’d been here as a child. It had belonged to the Blacks. Of course <em>Potter</em>, who had no blood connection to the Blacks, had been gifted it. Because Potter got everything, and always would. And of course the git was treating the place like utter shite. “A little paint and some redecorating would go a long way.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Potter said, looking embarrassed. “I should do that, huh.”</p><p>Draco realized that pointing out what a craphole Potter’s house was probably wasn’t going to get him into his pants. “Oh, who cares. I didn’t come here to talk about your house, did I?”</p><p>Potter looked at him, and the expression on his face changed suddenly, becoming almost predatory. “No?” He stalked towards Draco like a lion closing in on a gazelle, his eyes hungry. Draco didn’t mean to, but he found himself backing up until he hit the wall. Potter leaned close, putting a hand on either side of his head. “So, tell me,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “What did you come here for?”</p><p>Okay. Okay, this was very much turning Draco on, and also scaring him a little. There was something <em>unhinged</em> about Potter all of a sudden, something wild and untethered. “To fuck you,” Draco said, lifting his chin.</p><p>“Fuck <em>me</em>, hm? And what if I want to fuck you instead?” His mouth was next to Draco’s ear now, his breath hot. He nipped at the tender skin below his ear. “Would you let me?”</p><p>Draco thought there would be something satisfying about pounding his cock into Potter’s arse, something that felt like victory. However, if Potter liked to top, he wasn’t going to argue with him over it. The result would be the same either way; Draco would reveal himself soon afterward, and revel in Potter’s reaction.</p><p>Draco leaned his head back against the wall, baring his throat. “Yes,’ he said.</p><p>Potter kissed a trail along it, and then covered Draco’s mouth with his own, possessing it entirely, leaving no room for breath or thought. It was a messy kiss, full of clacking teeth and the burn of stubble against stubble, open-mouthed and hot. It made Draco so dizzy he thought he might fall if Potter wasn’t anchoring him in place.</p><p>“First,” Potter said, moving once more towards Draco’s neck. He was sucking and biting, almost violent, and Draco was sure he was leaving marks, though he didn’t care because it felt so fucking amazing. “I want you to suck my cock.”</p><p>“You’re very demanding,” Draco murmured. He would almost be offended, except there was something about Potter’s demeanor, about the absolute authority with which he spoke, that made it incredibly hot instead of pushy. Draco found he suddenly couldn’t wait to see it, to see Potter’s ruddy, leaking cock, to taste Potter’s precome on the tip of his tongue.</p><p>Potter nipped at his bottom lip and ran his hands up Draco’s sides, underneath his loose shirt. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”</p><p>“I want to,” Draco whispered. “I want to taste you.”</p><p>Potter groaned and ground his prick against Draco’s and then began sliding Draco’s shirt over his head. “This needs to come off,” he said by way of explanation. Draco had, of course, glamoured his chest so that the Sectumsempra scars weren’t visible. He pulled at Potter’s t-shirt, too, and stared, entranced, at what was underneath. Potter wasn’t bulky with muscles, but he certainly had them, lean and honed to perfection. He had a small patch of dark chest hair and a little line of hair running down from his belly button into his pants. His skin was gorgeous and scarred, and he had a tattoo above his heart, in vibrant, shimmering color. There was a scarab beetle there, in gold and brown and phosphorescent green, and below that was a golden Sator Square, with its ancient palindrome grid. “Why these?” Draco asked.</p><p>“The scarab beetle symbolizes rebirth. And, well, during the war…lets just say I was reborn in more ways than one. And the Sator Square I just find interesting. It’s a bit of a mystery, what it meant, but it’s thought to have been a symbol of protection, to ward off hexes and bad luck.”</p><p>Draco, who knew what these things were because of his potions research, was intrigued. Scarab beetle parts were used in a variety of potions; they were very potent and contained a great deal of magic. He also knew exactly what a Sator Square was, since he had done some research regarding whether it was actually an ancient Roman recipe for a potion that extended life. He couldn’t say any of that, though, without revealing too much of himself. Instead, he licked a slow stripe along the shapes, and then bit into Potter’s skin. Potter huffed a laugh.</p><p>“I believe you’ll need to take these off if I’m to suck your cock,” Draco said, running his hand over Potter’s jeans. He could feel the length and shape of Potter’s cock underneath, and it felt big and very, very hard.</p><p>“Do yours even come off?” asked Potter, pointing to Draco’s tight leather trousers. “Or are they just painted on?”</p><p>“Hilarious,” Draco deadpanned, leaning back against the wall to flick open the button of his trousers and then pull down the fly.</p><p>“You’re not wearing pants,” Potter said, his eyes wide, his hands running over every inch of Draco’s skin that was available. “Fuck, that’s hot.”</p><p>“No room,” said Draco, closing his eyes as Potter’s hands found their way into his trousers and over his own very hard prick. Potter yanked the trousers down and helped Draco step out of them, and then stood perfectly still, looking over every inch of Draco’s body. It was unnerving, how bold his gaze was, how intentional. Draco felt himself blushing.</p><p>“You’re too fucking beautiful. What the fuck. <em>God</em>.” He dropped to his knees and pressed his face against Draco’s cock. Draco was so hard it hurt, and Potter’s nuzzling was only making it worse. He felt his muscles convulse as Potter suddenly licked a stripe along his balls and began to stroke them with soft fingers.</p><p>“I thought you were the one who was going to get his cock sucked?” Draco murmured, his eyes glued to the sight of Potter, kneeling with his chest bare, with those ridiculously sexy tattoos of things Draco would never have imagined Potter to have known about. His mouth was pink and wet, and his eyes were ravenous. Draco raked a hand through Potter's hair, and it was soft as down.</p><p>“Plans have to change sometimes,” Potter said, sliding Draco’s cock over his lips and his chin, almost cuddling with it. His hands found their way around Draco’s hips and to his arse, palming his cheeks, and then he brought his mouth to the tip of Draco’s prick. He kissed it and then licked off the bit of precome, closing his eyes as he did, looking rapturous. He took one of his hands away from Draco to rub his own cock through his jeans. “You taste incredible,” Potter said, sliding his tongue along the underside of Draco’s cock.</p><p>Draco was shivering properly now, and he didn’t know if he could stay standing. Potter’s words were making him weak, and the sight of Potter, lewdly and almost reverently licking along his shaft like it was the most delicious thing he’d ever encountered was driving Draco out of his mind. He couldn’t keep the purpose of this whole thing in his head, could hardly remember why he was even here, not when waves of pleasure were ripping through him like brushfire, not when his skin felt sensitive everywhere, and hot.</p><p>When Potter began to suck him earnestly, Draco’s hips began jerking away from the wall and he found himself making noises, uncontrolled, keening things that would’ve been embarrassing if he hadn’t been so out of his mind. Potter, never taking his mouth away from Draco’s cock, pulled at his jeans, sliding them down below his arse to reveal his own cock. Draco could only blink at it, big and thick and red and leaking, as Potter began to stroke himself while continuing to suck Draco. Potter moaned, and the vibration it made caused Draco to cry out.</p><p>Draco was going to come way too soon if this continued. He put his hands on either side of Potter’s face, forcing him to look up. Potter’s eyes looked glazed, heavy-lidded, and he seemed to have worked himself into almost a trance. He turned his face into Draco’s hand, sucking and licking at his palm and his fingers, like he couldn’t help himself, like he just needed to fuck some part of Draco with his mouth, any part.</p><p>“Stand up,” Draco rasped.</p><p>“No,” Potter said, licking Draco’s cock again.</p><p>“Stand the fuck <em>up</em>, damnit!” Draco found himself digging his nails into Potter’s shoulder.</p><p>Potter stood and slammed Draco into the wall, hard. “Don’t tell me what to do,” he hissed against Draco’s throat, and then began kissing and licking it again.</p><p>Draco thrust his hips forward, reeling at the feel of his prick against Potter’s. He grabbed Potter’s face in his hands and brought their lips together. Once again, the way Potter kissed felt like fucking, like hard, balls-deep fucking.</p><p>In one furious instant, Draco spun them around, so that he was pressing Potter against the wall, thrusting against him so that his cock was sliding against Potter’s. He pressed their foreheads together, and he could feel Potter’s breath on his lips. It smelled sweet, like whiskey. “I want to do everything to you,” Draco said, unsure whether he was saying this as part of the plan or just saying it. “I want to fuck you and get fucked by you and I want to choke myself on that big, thick cock of yours. I want to taste your hole. I want to taste every part of you. I want to do everything. Fucking hell.” He grabbed Potter’s firm ass and pulled it hard against himself. “Fucking hell.”</p><p>Potter leaned forward, resting his head on Draco’s shoulder, and bit down, hard, probably drawing blood. Draco cried out, lost in the haze of his lust and in pleasure and pain. He took hold of Potter’s shoulders and flipped him, and began mouthing along the broad line of his shoulder, up the side of his neck. The side of Potter’s face was pressed against the wall and his eyes were closed, his breathing fast and harsh. “Fuck me, fuck me,” he whined. “Fuck me, <em>please</em>.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Draco said, reaching around to take Potter’s cock in hand. He breathed in the incredible smell of Potter’s neck, jerking him off for a moment, and then slid his hands back around to trail along Potter’s muscular back. He moved them further down, down to the two round globes of Potter’s arse, letting his fingertips feel the curve of it while his cock pressed into the crease. Finally, when he thought he might come just from the feel of Potter against him, he fell to his knees.</p><p>Potter’s hole was gorgeous, the little pink ring of muscle tight and sweet. He let his tongue drag across the rim and felt Potter shudder. Then again and again, so that Potter was jerking against him, moaning. He turned his face for a moment, licking the skin of Potter’s cheek, and then bit into it, like it was a juicy peach. Potter cried out. “Lick me again, <em>god</em>, please.”</p><p>Draco returned to Potter’s tight hole, licking slow circles around the rim, and then pressing his tongue in and in and in. Potter tasted so clean and so good. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered against Potter’s skin. “You taste amazing.”</p><p>“Ughn,” Potter moaned, putting his mouth against his curled fist. He was trembling all over, shaking like a leaf, and every time Draco fucked him with his tongue, he was bucking back against him like he couldn’t help himself. Draco licked and sucked and bit gently, and let his hand palm Potter’s bollocks. Potter was being bloody loud now, and Draco felt every one of the sounds he made deep in his belly, causing something inside of him churn and burn with heat.</p><p>He pressed a finger into Potter’s hole, slick with spit, and it went in easy. Draco hissed at the feel of it, at the warm, wet press of it. He licked and bit and sucked and fucked Potter with one finger and then two. His chest felt too full, too hot, like it would burst and lava would come tearing out of it. “You’re so gorgeous,” he said again, sitting back again to look at Potter’s lovely arse, at the way his fingers disappeared so easily into his wet, hot hole. Potter practically screamed when Draco added a third finger and bit down on the cheek of his arse again.</p><p>“I want you in me. I need you in me. Fuck me, please,” Potter was babbling.</p><p>Yes, alright. Draco could do that.</p><p>He stood and kissed along Potter’s shoulder. “You’re nice and wet and open for me now, aren’t you?” He moved his fingers back to Potter’s hole, tickling along the slick, ruined rim.</p><p>“Yes, god, yes. Put it in. Please, put it in.”</p><p>Potter’s back was warm and hard against his chest, his muscles rippling as he clenched his fists and strained. “You want me to fuck you, don’t you?”</p><p>“Yeah. Fuck me. <em>Fuck</em> me.”</p><p>Draco did a lubrication spell on his cock, palming it a few times and moaning. Everything felt good at this point, every touch ripped through his body like lightening.</p><p>He lined himself up, and felt his stomach tighten just at the thought, just at the sight, of what was about to happen. It was too good. All of this was too good.</p><p>When the tip of his cock breached Potter’s hole, Potter whined and bit at his fist.</p><p>Draco pressed in, overcome by the tight, wet heat against his cock, the sickly-sweet feel low in his belly, the tightening of his balls. “<em>Fuck</em>, god, the way you feel.”</p><p>Potter’s arm snaked around Draco, pulling him closer.</p><p>Draco pulled out slowly, feeling the slide of himself against the ridge of muscle all the way to his toes.</p><p>“Fuck me,” Potter begged.</p><p>Draco gripped his hips and began to fuck him for real, in and out, hard and resolute, feeling his balls against Potter’s arse.</p><p>Potter was pushing his arse back, bending forward further, crying out.</p><p>Everything melted together, became a blur of sensation, and Draco couldn’t even keep his eyes open, he was so overcome. Wave after wave of building pleasure rushed over him, and he felt it coil deep inside of him, furious and burning. He licked his hand and reached around for Potter’s cock again and then began to jerk him in time to his own thrusts. “Yes, oh, god, yes, there! There!” Potter was crying out.</p><p>Draco pressed his forehead into Potter’s back and fucked him harder and harder. He could hear the obscene sounds of their fucking, the slap and the slide of his cock in Potter’s arse, and Potter was crying out with each slap, grinding his arse backwards, trying to get Draco deeper and deeper, harder and harder.</p><p>Draco pressed his head against Potter’s skin, then licked it, tasting the sweat on his tongue, then bit. Potter practically screamed. “I’m going to come, Fuck, fuck, ugh,” he called out.</p><p>“Come for me,” Draco said. He was right there, right on the edge, teetering. “I want to feel you clench around my cock.”</p><p>Potter cried out again, almost sobbing, and then Draco was coming, hot and fast, filling Potter’s hole up with his spunk. “Oh, god, oh god,” Potter was crying. “Yes, god, oh, yes. <em>Draco</em>, <em>yes</em>!”</p><p>Draco almost didn’t hear it, he was so lost in his own pleasure. It was only when he finally slowed that it hit him.</p><p>He stood still, perfectly still, panting. “What the fuck did you just call me?” he whispered.</p><p>Potter had frozen underneath him, too. “Um,” he said.</p><p>Neither one of them moved or spoke for several long moments. Then, finally, Potter pulled away, and twisted around, facing him. He looked obscene, almost, his hair a wreck, his mouth bright red and swollen, his cheeks pink. His neck and chest were red and irritated, and there were scratch marks scattered across them.</p><p>“I called you Draco,” he said, turning even pinker. “Since that’s who you are.”</p><p>“I’m Alaric –” Draco began, and Potter started laughing.</p><p>“You think I don’t recognize the way you walk? The drinks you order? The pattern of your speech? You think I don’t recognize your hands or your throat or your shoulders? You think that stupid fake face fooled me even for a second?”</p><p>"It fooled everyone else," Draco mumbled.</p><p>"Yeah, well. Everyone else didn't spend six years of school, not to mention the last six Fridays, watching you."</p><p>Draco’s mouth opened and then closed again. “Then, why?” he asked, finally.</p><p>“Probably the same reason you did,” Potter said.</p><p>“To get revenge?” Draco asked. He felt like he might faint.</p><p>“Oh, come off it. You really think that’s why you went to all this trouble? To get revenge?”</p><p>“Yes,” Draco said. He didn’t think his heart should be pounding this hard in the aftermath of an orgasm like that. It probably wasn’t healthy. And yes, he’d done this for revenge. Hadn’t he? Why else would he have done it, what other reason could there possibly be?</p><p>And then, to Draco’s great surprise, Potter leaned forward and kissed him softly. “Liar,” he said against Draco’s mouth. “You like me.”</p><p>Draco found himself kissing Potter back, and soon he was so swept away that he forgot to argue the point.</p><p> </p><p>The next morning, Draco woke up in Potter's big, soft bed, where they'd fallen asleep after fucking three more times. “Potter?” he whispered to the sleeping figure beside him.</p><p>Potter blinked his eyes open, and, after a moment, they cleared, and he smiled. It was crooked and lovely, and Draco hated the way it made something in him twist and grow warm. “If I were to say that I liked you," Draco began, "<em>which I am not saying</em>, by the way, what would <em>you</em> say?”</p><p>Potter, naked as the day he was born, threw the covers off and straddled Draco. “I’d say,” he said pressing kisses onto Draco’s cheek and along his jaw, “good. Because I like you too.”</p><p>“Oh,” said Draco.</p><p>“So, are you planning to say it?” asked Potter, nuzzling into the crook of Draco’s neck.</p><p>“Maybe after breakfast,” Draco said imperiously.</p><p>“I have to cook you breakfast too?” Potter teased, pressing his rapidly hardening cock against Draco.</p><p>“Mmm. I’m hardly low-maintenance, Potter. I require lots of fucking and also food at regular intervals.”</p><p>“That doesn’t sound so bad. Can we do the first one <em>before</em> I make breakfast?”</p><p>“If we must,” Draco said wearily. “But I’m still rather tired. Maybe <em>you</em> could fuck <em>me</em> this time?”</p><p>“If I must,” said Potter, laughing. He kissed Draco’s nose. “I know I haven’t made you breakfast yet, but I really like you.”</p><p>Draco looked up at him, at the brightness of those eyes and at the sweet smile that was playing across his lips. He sighed, unable to keep himself from returning it. “I like you too, Harry.”</p>
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